Robin Skone Palmer

Robin Skone Palmer

Phyllis Diller and Dom Perignon

Yesterday I was engaged in one of my favorite past-times: trolling the thrift store in search of bargains. And I found something I loved but truly do not need: champagne glasses. These were lovely tulip glasses that emitted a lovely ringing tone when I tapped them. The lady in the next aisle turned at the sound.

Champagne Glasses

“Pretty, huh?” I asked.

“Yes. Are they crystal?”

“Yup.”

“Are you going to get them?”

Well, if I hadn’t committed to it already, that made up my mind. “Absolutely.” She turned away. I thought maybe she was disappointed.

I checked the price: $1.99 and it was senior day which is 30% off so that made them, um, $1.34. Couldn’t resist. I do love crystal.

There were a couple of drawbacks: I’m not much of a champagne drinker, but of course it’s always good for celebrations. And can you drink champagne out of regular wine glasses? Well, of course. But how much more fun out of real crystal champagne glasses. And secondly, my cupboard is full. I’ve taken to storing the overflow wine glasses in the dishwasher which I don’t use for washing dishes anyway. There is no place for more glasses, no matter how slender.

As always, I checked the base to see if they were some name brand. Dom Perignon was etched on the bottom. Woo-hoo!

Suddenly I was transported back to one evening with Phyllis Diller and I cannot remember the occasion or the location, but it was a celebration and Dom Perignon was being poured. I was not much of a drinker and couldn’t care less about champagne. AND I was working and even at a party or dinner, when I was with Phyllis I never drank (as you will remember from the time we went to St. Thomas). So I politely declined the offered champagne.

Quite to my surprise, Phyllis said, “Oh, no, you have to have some. This is Dom Perignon. You at least need to be able to say you’ve tasted Dom Perignon!”

“Oh you have to at least try it. It’s Dom Perignon!”

I was surprised for the simple reason that Phyllis did not pay much attention to her staff (that would be me) when others were around. It makes me think this must have been a small backstage gathering.

Whoever was pouring handed me a glass and I took a sip. I resisted giggling and blurting out “the bubbles tickle my nose,” but I remember I wasn’t overwhelmed. In fact, I don’t think I was even truly whelmed. Back in those days my wine drinking was pretty much limited to Annie Green Springs.

I still am not crazy about champagne. Especially true champagne from the Champagne Region of France. The French ferment their grapes until they are so dry that it is almost like drinking aspirin. There is a method to their madness, but it does not appeal to me: The idea of champagne — or wine in general — is to cleanse the palate and leave it ready for the next bite of food. Well, it does that all right — it removes any hint of flavor from your mouth and threatens to take the enamel off your teeth, too.

So I’ve got them washed and dried and sparkling, ready for a celebration. I’m sure I’ll find some reason fairly soon to open a bottle of sparkling wine (no, not true champagne) and we’ll see how good it tastes from real crystal champagne glasses.